“Sure.” I walk to the chair, easing into it. My pain has subsided, but it’s still there; I try to ignore it. I know she sees my pinched face when she reaches out and places her hand on mine. In that moment, she lent me some of her strength and silently told me, I don’t need to be ashamed. I see it bouncing from her hazel eyes, that I know she has seen everything.
I force myself to clear my throat, hoping the words will come. I don’t enjoy talking about them or what happened. “Over a year ago, I was brutally raped by three people at my college.” I swallow as if I can swallow the words back down like the whale did to Moby. But this isn’t a story; this is real, and those words are now out.
I pan my eyes away from Dr. Maggie, but her voice calls them back to her, “Look at me when you speak. This is yours. This is a part of you, Rowan. Don’t be ashamed, because I promise you, you have nothing to be ashamed of.” Her words bring tears to my eyes, but I bat them away.
“I bled for weeks afterward.” I give her a tight smile. “I had to wear diapers because it was that bad. My body was so torn and used,” I shrug, “and tired. I knew I needed medical attention, but I was scared and didn’t even try. Scared they’d come back and finish me if they got wind of me getting help. I couldn’t sit for a long while. I knew I especially needed stitches in my rectum, but again, I did nothing about it. The pain in my stomach was almost immediate, but at first, I wrote it off as just being something normal. My body was healing? But after the first few months, I knew it wasn’t normal. I shouldn’t still be hurting. I barely have periods, and when I do, they are nothing like I’ve ever had before.” I spill it all out, and she sits there quietly while I do. No slight inclination of judgment for not going to the doctor. Just pure understanding in her eyes.
“Rowan,” Dr. Maggie squeezes my hand, “first, I want to say how remarkable you are. Because you are. And you have nothing to be ashamed of. This wasn’t you; this was them. You deserved nothing that was bestowed upon you because of some evil men. And know that.” She lets go of my hand and stands, walking to the exam table, pulling a sheet out of her bag along with what looks like a hospital gown. “You survived, and here you are, telling me your story. Because even though it’s the shittiest one, it’s your story of survival.” She turns and makes her way back to me, holding the hospital gown out to me. “I’ll step outside while you get undressed.”
The room grows quiet as I shrug off my clothing, looking down at the brand on my stomach, my lip curling in disgust, before putting on the hospital gown and tying it in the front. My legs shake as I walk to the table, anxiety rising as I sit on it, maneuvering myself into a laying position.
A slight knock sounds on the door before Dr. Maggie cracks it open, peering in to make sure I’m dressed before walking in.
I watch as she opens the small suitcase once she lays it on the bed.
“I’ll let you know everything I do before I do it and what is happening while I’m doing the exam. This here,” I watch her lay a sheet of paper on the bed, “is a GE Portable ultrasound machine. I will be able to examine your uterus to see what's happening.”
I stay quiet as she lays her bag on the bed and starts taking out tools. I know, from the gleaming silver encased in closed plastic, exactly what it is. She lays out more tools, as well as a few empty vials and a needle. I swallow loudly when I see that. Looking away, I hear pill bottles being laid down.
Once her gloves are in place, she walks over and helps me put my feet in the stirrups. My knees locked, not wanting to open them. “It’s okay, Rowan. I’m going to insert a finger inside your vagina and feel around to see if I can feel any scar tissue. This is a normal exam you’d get at the gynecologist, but with this, I’ll be looking for the reason for all the pain you’ve been having.” She motions for me to scoot down the table, and reluctantly, I do.
“Okay.” That is all I can say as I slowly unlatch my knees, letting my legs fall open. She turns on the light on her headpiece, which now adorns her head, before smiling at me.
“I’m fixing to insert my finger; you’ll feel pressure, but that’s normal.”
I breathe deeply, wanting to close my legs and force her out of me, but I lie watching the ceiling fan blades turn in circles, trying to regulate my breathing.
“Good job. I’m all done with that. Now I’m going to take the speculum and insert it. It’ll open your canal for me, so I can swab it and take a better look for any abnormalities.”
I groan as she inserts it and can feel the pressure as it slowly opens. “Goddamn,” I mutter, biting my lip.
“Not much longer and you’ll be done with this part.”
My heart is racing, but finally she’s telling me I can scoot up on the bed.
I watch her walk back to the bed, and with precision, she has the speculum back in the bag it came in, the swabs in their own tubes, and her gloves in another bag, I’m guessing for trash.
“Is it okay if I feel your stomach before I start the ultrasound?”
“Yeah.”
Standing over me, she blows on her hands and rubs them together. “Downside of getting old, my body is always cold,” she tells me, smiling.
“If at any point you feel pain, please tell me,” she says as she opens my gown, revealing my stomach. I see the moment she sees the scar. I watch her neck move as she swallows.
“A parting gift.” I try to be funny, but it falls flat.
She pushes my stomach, and immediately the pain appears with vengeance.
“Okay, sweetie, anywhere else?” she asks lightly.
“Right there,” I say as her hand pushes where my scar is.
“I’m going to roll you over closer to the bed, so my ultrasound machine will reach.”
For a tiny woman, she shows no struggle when she moves the bed.
I lay in silence as she preps the machine, marveling at how advanced technology is, when she turns on the ultrasound, and a black-and-white screen appears.
